words by Derek Salinas Lazarski

My non-Facebooking brother: What's a Facebook Like?Me: You give it to people on Facebook.My bro: How do you give it?Me: You click Like.

This topic has been floating around in my mind when I realized that every time I made a Facebook post, I'd take it down in a few hours if it didn't have any Likes on it. How neurotic is that? So after actually seeing I was doing this (somewhere like 5-10 times in a few months), I got a little self critical and unconsciously resolved to do three things: 1) only post what I thought was the highest quality, 2) not care how many likes I got, and 3) explore deeper what the action of giving or receiving a Facebook Like (or upvote on Reddit, Twitter, etc) really means to figure out why I post and why the Likes feel so good.

As for numero uno, I post less stuff on Facebook now, and only when I really think what I'm offering is either pretty useful or pretty clever. My creative engine is not known for its consistency, so sometimes I'll post thrice in two days and then maybe not for a month. Quality. I've heard that having something published that you really don't like doesn't feel that great.

As for number two, the number of likes I got, let me save that for the end. I know, poor essay planning here, throwing my reader a rope-a-dope. Let's see if it works.

As for the third point, let's see what a Facebook Like is and means and so I can figure out how neurotic I was acting (and by "figure out" I of course mean "harshly self-judge"). And once I realized my neurosis, was I all, "Let's lock this away and forget about it and pretend no one never notices it and I'm perfect now what's on TV?" No. It was whip-out-the-keyboard time.

Years of writing workshops has calloused my capacity for constructive criticism, but it never hurts to channel one's own inner Stuart Smalley:

"I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and dog gonnit, people like me in those photos from when I went to Cancun last year."

Clicking Like really is the smallest amount of energy you could possibly put into any internet action. It requires so little energy that you're not actually doing something for someone outside of reading what they wrote or looking at their picture. Maybe you visited a link and got something out of it. You didn't help them move a couch. It even takes far more time to type out a comment then click Like, and people do that all the time. (Whereas I give Likes away like I have an infinite supply of them, which I kinda do "I'm the Like Fairy, sprinkling Likes on all the likety-like-like!).

What you are giving them is the endorsement of your name in the Facebook popularity rankings, and everyone's name means something a little different depending on your relationships and reputation and such. Lending your name and giving them another Like to grow their pile with is, more than anything, a gesture of thought.

And why do people click Like? They want to show support, to recognize you, to praise you for brightening their day a tad. Why do they like things in general? Pleasure, comfort, security, relationships, morals. More often than not, it connects with them emotionally, which is why posting a song usually dies Likeless: music is so emotionally subjective. When I make a post about some random thing like finding a knife on the sidewalk, there are any number of reasons people could click that Like button. And because not everyone on your friends list sees all your posts, it's always a random combination of people viewing them every time. You could get ten likes or zero. And that's not even to get into the whole idea that because Google and Facebook collects all your demographics and gives you content based on that, which may put you into a self-reinforcing ideological tunnel, as discussed by Eli Pariser in this TED Talk:

The way I choose to look at it now is that if someone clicks Like, it meant I either added something to their day or they wanted to support me. Either way, I'll take it. But now, with my revamped posting standards, I'm also doing my part, making sure I'm not throwing slop up there that's not nearly as clever, insightful, or helpful as I thought it was. That was me acting from my ego instead of thinking about the context, which is one of the central issues to being a good writer and why it's important to have trusted readers. They keep your blind spots in check.​A Facebook post is a third-person communication; you're putting a message out there in public for a whole group. This means the validation of a Like is also a public action in a public space. Sometimes everyone sees you make a good joke, sometimes you make a post that dies a sad, hugless death.

And that is painful. You think this comment is good, that it's going to reach people and touch them or make them laugh, and yet it just sits there, friendless, like an echo in a cave, like a voice calling for someone just hoping they'll answer. And when that answer doesn't come, you reflect it upon yourself, you identify with the lack of validation. You become the lonely comment, which is a hell of a lot easier than doing that on stage. Comedians deserve respect for their resolve.

A psychological trick, sure, but one that's easy to get duped by. The key is not needing that validation. Learning how to be happy with getting your writing/pictures/ideas out there simply because you put thought into it and felt like the thought/photo/link should be shared with the world. It doesn't matter who else likes it as long as you like it.

And that brings me back to number two up top: the number of Likes you receive for a given post. I just watched a Frontline where high school students where raving over how many Likes this picture got vs. that picture, as if it really matters (we're pretending this post means I'm above this at this point...). But a friend recently told me that we're responsible for telling people how we feel and what we need, and anything they actually give us should be considered a gift.

So to follow that reasoning, any Facebook Like should be considered a gift. None are necessary, but even getting one is a cool thing. My stupid joke got Liked by one person. If I free myself from expectations, I can be grateful for that. Like.

Income inequality in America has been a topic of much discussion lately, and not without good reason. This graph shows that the actual distribution of wealth in this country is far more disproportioned than people realize, with the top 20% of the population holding more than 80% of the wealth.

"From left to right: the wealth distribution Norton’s respondents said would be ideal; how they estimated wealth was currently distributed; and the actual distribution of wealth in the United States." Graphic found at http://harvardmagazine.com/2011/11/what-we-know-about-wealth

This topic can get politically charged rather quickly, but I want to use it to highlight a fundamental human truth about human nature: we often only really care about the things that immediately affect us. We can, eventually, grow past this idea, but this is how human beings begin when we come into this world, and many of us don't grow past it. Some who don't grow past it, the ones with lots of money, do everything they can to keep acquiring money, and because there's only so much to go around that leaves the masses fighting over so much less. To me, that's neither ethical nor practical.

To be honest, I'm nervous writing about this situation considering the politics and passions involved, but many comments in the last few weeks by some of America's wealthiest people have stirred my ire past the point of biting my tongue. Because these comments, by people who are role models of the financial industry (meaning billionaires), strike me as sad and inhumane. It rings of propaganda that demonstrates a lack of empathy and perspective.

Nicole Miller CEO Ken Bonheim: "We've got a country that the poverty level is wealth in 99% of the rest of the world. So we're talking about woe is me, woe is us, woe is this. ... The guy that's making, oh my God, $35,000 a year. ... Why don't we try that out in India or some country we can't even name ... China, anyplace -- that guy is wealthy."

Venture capitalist Tom Perkins: "The Tom Perkins system is: You don't get to vote unless you pay a dollar of taxes...But what I really think is, it should be like a corporation. You pay a million dollars in taxes, you get a million votes. How's that?"

Sam Zell, chairman of Equity Group Investments: "The 1 percent are getting pummeled because it's politically convenient to do so...[people] should not talk about envy of the 1 percent, they should talk about emulating the 1 percent. The 1 percent work harder, the 1 percent are much bigger factors in all forms of our society."

The 1 percent work harder than everyone else? I'm sorry, do they all moonlight as stockboys at Wal-mart? I couldn't believe this quote when I heard it, and it clearly demonstrates that the ability to make money does not require the ability to understand the day-to-day struggles of one's fellow men and women. This comment is a slap in the face to every person in the United States who works retail, who works fast food, who does construction, who teaches our youth, who works in a factory, who struggles to find employment, who has children and works to be a good parent. But most of all, it demonstrates an ingratitude on the part of Mr. Zell for the cosmically lucky financial circumstances he finds himself in, and the financial struggles he will never have to face.

Maybe I'm biased as someone who grew up in a two-bedroom apartment with two working parents and three siblings, but comments like these are infuriating and disgusting amid rising rates of poverty, closing schools, persistent violent crime, a nonexistent mental health infrastructure, record prison populations, record student loan debt, massive pension problems, outsourcing of jobs, and rising health costs that a new health care law may or may not address. Mr. Zell doesn't seem to realize that choosing what and where to invest is not the same "hard work" as standing on an assembly line or working in a stockroom or driving a bobcat or grading papers all night.

This country should be a meritocracy. I'm not against wealth; I'm against wealth's lack of empathy for non-wealth. People should be rewarded for their hard work and held accountable when they try to take advantage of the system. But that's not how it works. Hard work for many people doesn't translate to wealth, especially with so many locked into debt. And this isn't a republic either when politicians are swayed by big money over social well-being. Until we are able to control this behavior--through legislation, voting with our dollars, education, empathy, or sheer human will--then problems like near economic collapse, widening income inequality, and widespread poverty will increase.

The comments by these men do, however, make sense. The idea of making money--or the profit motive, if you will--has always dehumanized people to serve the ends of those with the cash. From slavery to child labor, terrible working conditions to union-busting, organized crime to pay-to-play, poor products to poor service to poor treatment of the environment, the profit motive has always valued making money with little regard for the big-picture effects. It's just so frustrating when those with so much accuse those with so little of inciting class warfare. It's as if the Germans blamed everyone else for starting World War II (which is hopefully a far-more-valid WWII simile).

This also makes sense psychologically. When a child is born, they only care for themselves. They cry when their needs aren't met. They are only aware of their immediate environment. They only really care about the things that immediately affect them. It takes time to learn empathy for those around them, and it takes a much longer time to learn empathy for those not around them, for those different from them, for those affected by the third-person effects of one's actions. This is the process of maturation to adulthood: the ability to take responsibility for what one does and to sacrifice for others, eventually including strangers and animals and people you will never meet.

This quote by Cornel West sums up the differences in perspective pretty well:

"There is a self-indulgent hedonism and self-serving cynicism for those at the top. To simply let it collapse and pull back. Public school, nothing to do with it. Public transportation, nothing to do with it. Public health, nothing to do with it. Privatize them because I have access to resources that allow me to privatize in such a way that I can have quality. The rest, do what you will, make it on your own." From Prophetic Thought in Postmodern Times by Cornel West (Monroe, ME: Common Courage Press.)The majority of people do not have the luxuries of this perspective; not because they don't work hard, but because of the circumstances of the system. Some people do not mature empathetically as they mature chronologically, which means we'll have people with low levels of empathy and high levels of wealth who will do everything to secure more and more wealth. Not only does that wealth become a defining characteristic of their identity, but the drive for survival and the existential avoidance of death is going to have anyone--ourselves included--trying to gather as many acorns as possible, though most of us don't have tools at our disposal like Swiss bank accounts, low taxes on our capital gains, and political influence to sway legislation in our favor.

These people have become ultra-rich by solely thinking about themselves, so when they acquire tremendous societal power through their wealth, should we be surprised that they continue to act selfishly? When the profit motive is your dogma and your net worth a large measure of your personal identity, why would you stop to think about the kids that can't afford textbooks or parents that work past their kids' bedtime or prisoners whose lives are traded on Wall Street? Like it or not, our market rewards people for being insensitive jerks, so we can't blame them for acting like insensitive jerks when they get to the top. What we can do, at least, is point out the psychological phenomenon of a 65-year-old man that still has the same capacity for empathy and gratitude as a three-year-old. And then maybe us down here can use that wisdom to love each other better while those at the top enjoy all the spiritual fulfillment that have-your-cake-and-gorge-on-it-too materialism offers them.

So these comments, while sad, are not surprising. Despite them, historically we have shown great resiliency and progress as a country and race in furthering all kinds of equality. The end of slavery and fight for worker's rights is proof of that (not to mention civil rights, women's rights, human rights, etc.). We need to believe in the American dream, not just for people in our country, but everywhere. It should be a truth and a right of every human born on this planet to fulfill the goals of their life through hard work and dedication, and hopefully the stars align for as many of us as possible.

Admittedly, that's a nice fuzzy thought that's not going to be true in every situation. But Mr. Zell is right about one thing: the 1% do have a tremendous influence in this society. And with greater empathy on their part, we can steer this Queen Mary in the right direction, one that works to benefit 100% of us. But we aren't going to get there when the ones with the most control only act in their own self-interest.

Organic is not the kind of music they play in churchOrganic is not the surgery where they remove your appendixOrganic isn’t even the aisle in the grocery store with the overpriced brands you don’t see commercials for

But let’s talk about organic food because it’s a digestable topicunprocesseduntaintedpreservativelesschemicallessfood the way that owls eat foodnaturally harvestedingredients like corn, oil, saltthe ingredients on a box of raisinsis raisinsnot Niacin Thiamin Polysyllabelicose Corn Syrup

Organic is the paradigm of timethe way it marchsteps through eternitymoment by moment

Organic is when she bumps into you and smiles so you ask her to coffeeorganic is a missing the train hangoverorganic is surprise brownies, food poisoning, make-up sex (sometimes in that order)Organic is tornadoes and rainbows and Henry David ThoreausOrganic is a decision that takes yearsgenerations of child abusethe fight for human inequality

the paradigm of time is moment by moment randomness of an uncountable number of objectsswirling together in a glorious stew

Organic is more than an orientationit is the unshackled reality beneath the delusion of our controlit is nature free from the arrogant hands of manit is knowing when to hold on and when to let flow in the river of life

nature is unchained, unprocessed, unpreservedreality is not data pointsthe unfolding of each moment contains a mystery to be cherishedthe mystery is the fruitorganicis acceptingwhatever comes next

I love the song "Do You Realize??" by the Flaming Lips. Sometimes you pick your favorites; sometimes they pick you. This one's a no-brainer for me, and not just because of how heartfelt and honest it is, and not just because so few works of art can stretch you to the depths of your sadness and joy at the same time, but also because the title question doesn't get answered. It's presenting a path of inquiry for you, the listener, to explore, and the beauty in that lies in the fact that realization--the action of realizing, the verb "to realize"--is a process with no destination. The fruits of its explorations are limitless. This makes the extra question mark at the end of the song title a nice little touch.

​The common usage of "to realize" is captured in the Oxford American Dictionary's first two definitions: "be fully aware of; conceive as real" and "understand clearly." To realize something, in this sense, is to have it enter your mind, to acquire it as knowledge, to think it. "I didn't realize the mime spoke Spanish." "She realized that everyone in England understands Doctor Who references." "He was distraught when he realized the man with the mullet was his barber."

This is the manner of realizing alluded to in the song, albeit on a much more profound, existential level. But while the third definition of realize is to "present as real," as in "the story was powerfully realized on stage," this seems to fall under the fourth definition in the OAD, which is the most interesting to me:

"to convert into actuality; achieve." This is the definition used when we talk about someone realizing their potential.

So we have two main uses for the verb "to realize": 1) to understand and 2) to become.

The song "Do You Realize??" could be less eloquently rephrased as "Do You Understand??" But to realize something with regards to the other definition, as in to become something, as in to shed one's former self, is a process that happens all the time even though we only commonly pay attention to major milestones, such as realizing adulthood when you graduate college or realizing parenthood when that initial burst of terror rips through you in the hospital. The first step you ever took, the first time you got into serious trouble, the first time you knew pure confidence, the first time you knew you were very good at something, the first time you considered yourself an authority are all realizations. They required multiple understandings, but they are, themselves, becomings, realizations. And sometimes they float by us like another forgettable moment of life.

These realizations are occurring all the time. The psychosocial aspect of the human being has so many different dimensions to it (from the simple cognitive/emotional/spiritual breakdown to theories of multiple intelligences) that each person progresses in different areas at different speeds at different times. I fried fish on my own for the first time last week; that was a realization. Just as characters in works of fiction change throughout a work due to the challenges they face or how characters in role playing games level up different attributes through facing the challenge of adventure, flesh-and-blood human beings develop as well. All moments are unique but also you are a unique you in each moment, as per Heraclitus's thought that "you could not step twice into the same river." We don't always recognize it if there isn't a ceremony to celebrate, because our minds are all over the place and life is happening, but the development of the individual is a lifelong process that begins at your first breath and doesn't end until your last. In-between, there are many realizations, along with what you are able to realize about them.

Just being aware that the second definition of the verb "to realize" means "to become" is a powerful fulcrum for personal change. When I smoked cigarettes, I knew I wanted to stop. Eventually, I had feelings of hatred toward myself for smoking, for not having control, even for still enjoying it. But I didn't fully realize myself as a nonsmoker until my actions aligned with my thoughts.

Because you can think something about yourself, you can want it, have expectations about it, realize ways that you don't want to be, but these ideas and emotions are different than actually being that thing. That requires cracking open your old self and stepping through the cocoon into the new incarnation of you.

Just the idea that this second definition exists has been very useful to me, even though ironically it sounds awkward every time I try to use it in a sentence. "Today I realized myself as a being capable of frying fish." Bleh. Not gonna make the cut in a poem any time soon. But the idea of the word itself manifests the notion that personal growth, personal change, personal evolution are always inherent possibilities to the human condition.

Language, being one of the major organizational structures of our psychology, allows us far more conscious control of this evolution. We aren't always able to direct the ways in which we change as people, but having words greatly helps us. Words are like dusted-off fossils we have dug up from our subconscious, and through the words we can realize things, and we can thereby realize our realizations.

Outside of being a fun, superstitious holiday that presupposes a marmot can predict global weather patterns (which mammals with much larger frontal lobes have found difficult to do), Groundhog Day offers a great time to reflect on one of my favorite movies: Groundhog Day.

In this new classic, Bill Murray plays grumpy weatherman Phil Connors, who is sent with his producer Rita (played by Andie McDowell) to Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania to cover whether the groundhog will see his shadow and we'll get six more weeks of winter. Phil hates everything about the assignment and town (because he hates everything, including himself), but when a snowstorm traps them in the town and they must stay the night, Phil wakes up to relive the exact same Groundhog Day again, and again, and again...

I'll try to keep the spoilers in this post vague, but there isn't much to spoil here, and that's part of the beauty. The story follows the typical structure of the hero's journey: Phil is faced with a dilemma, he tries to escape the dilemma (both physically and metaphysically), he finally realizes that he must change to conquer his situation, he changes and the society benefits from his change, and in the end he receives the hero's boon.

The idea of having to live the same day over and over again ad infinitum while being able to remember the previous day and adjust one's behavior is a beautiful metaphor for the personal transformation of the human being. I'm not talking about Phil here; I'm talking about you and me.

Throughout the course of the movie, Phil changes in so many ways, but the one most intriguing to me is his ability to connect and care for Rita to win her by the end. In reliving the same day again and again, he makes to her stupid comments and inane suggestions while demonstrating an immaturely pessimistic worldview that lies in stark contrast to Rita's cheery comportment. While the days that you and I experience in our lives are not identical, the lesson is the same: engaging in the same negative habits over and over will only give us the same results.

Often we don't see this. We are blind to what motivates into negative habits, addictions, and thought patterns. Hence the psychological idea, coined by Jung, of seeing one's shadow, or parts of our psychologies that our conscious minds are not able to see. Much like the shadow's on Plato's cave wall, we are so often unaware of the motivations and justifications that we can control but do not, and yet we are forced to reap the consequences of those psychological dispositions. The process of psychotherapy is the process of uncovering one's shadow to better understand the parts of ourselves that we deny. It is no coincidence that Phil Connors shares the name of Punxsutawney Phil, the groundhog.

Phil learns from his mistakes in his courtship of Rita by altering his behavior each time he relives the day; we learn from our mistakes in the dating world by altering our behavior on each new date or potential partner we have. It is through this process that we, and Phil, learn to detach ourselves from the absolutes in our minds to truly and genuinely connect with another person. If I look at Rita as a symbol for all the women I've dated in my life, I can look back and see how I have changed my behavior--and who I am--based on what worked and didn't work, how I made people feel and how I felt about doing it.

Phil's other endeavors in the movie consist of the development of his physical abilities (the piano) and his ethics (from bank robbery and hedonism to altruism). That's what makes this movie so phenomenal: it is a perfect metaphorical representation of the process the human being undertakes to overcome his or her faults to step into their full potential. The first step is becoming aware of the things one should change (which is difficult, because the essence of the shadow is that it is a psychological blindspot), but even if one is aware of one's own shortcomings, it takes a tremendous amount of effort to overcome the inertia of one's faults to change into a new person. Phil cannot escape the day, so the premise of the film forces Phil to confront his demons; in real life, people avoid those confrontations all the time, and are usually consumed or destroyed by them. (Eerily embodied on this very day by the passing away of another Phil, Philip Seymour Hoffman, of a drug overdose.)

The path of transformation is available to anyone: it is an inherent part of the human organism. But the willpower required of that transformation is tremendous, which is why so many avoid the quest. Should they undertake it to its full end, however, it is how they overcome their suffering, realize their full human potential, and work to reduce the suffering of others. This is the path of the true hero. And in the same way that a person becomes aware of their faults and works to change them, so does a society atone for its mistakes and change to reduce the suffering for all. There is only one path of improvement.

Winter is symbolic of death and decay while spring is symbolic of rebirth and renewal. In truth, the process of death and renewal happens every morning, every evening, and truly in every moment, over and over, like the day Phil relives. The meaning of Groundhog Day the holiday isn't weather prediction; it's to remind us that the potential for change is always inherent, the transformation of character is always a possibility, and this possibility is always within our control. It never matters if the groundhog sees his or her shadow. Six weeks more winter or no, the trials of life must be endured. Either they conquer us, or, through courage and camaraderie and awareness and effort, through the humility of the trial and error of life, we conquer them, and become the people we have the potential to become.